Magical Girls and Jealous Musicians
by Military Mechanic
Summary: The three newest Puella Magi are very strange, Kyubey decides after a while. Just watching these two is almost enough to give him a headache; what with how the two older ones are constantly dancing around the younger of the trio, who remains either blissfully unaware or just enjoys watching the barely hidden bickering.


A/N: so! this is dedicated to Lancesinmyheart, who requested a One Piece/Puella Magi Madoka Magica x-over. she also requested it be Franky/Zolo, with one-sided Brook/Franky. and, well, this is my attempt at that. it may eventually have more added but, for the moment, this it the complete story.

enjoy, and tell me what you think!

* * *

The three newest Puella Magi are very strange, Kyubey decides after a while. Their wishes were all odd things - though, he does admit, most humans come up with strange wishes. It's just that these watching these two is almost enough to give him a headache; what with how the two older ones are constantly dancing around the younger of the trio, who remains either blissfully unaware or just enjoys watching the barely hidden bickering.

* * *

It's a strange thing to think about, really. Being a Puella Magi. Which, as Brook was informed after he made the contract, roughly translated into being a 'magical girl'. And female he most certainly is not. But then, neither are Franky and Zolo - the two Puella Magi who he shares the town with. Not something that Kyubey took into account when he gave them their powers unfortunately.

A slight frown marrs his thin, pale face as he looks down at his 'new uniform'. The knee-length fabric feels odd against his legs, and he still isn't sure what the look is supposed to represent. Black velvet, sparsly decorated with stark, white bones. It makes him look like some sort of skeleton - or a version of death, which might be fitting, were his weapon a scythe and not a sword. After the quick glance of his own dress, his eyes travel to his two companions.

The witch has already been destroyed, grief seed collected, and they are just lounging about in the park. Franky has sprawled out on one of the benches, arms flung about and bright blue skirt hiked up high on her thighs. Brook, in a not-so-stealthy manner, moves toward the bench and grins, trying to catch a glimpse of the other male's panties. Instead, he catches a glimpse of Zolo, lounging against a nearby tree, doing the same. The grin dissapears, a scowl forming in it's place.

Rorunoa Zolo, a high-school drop-out and Puella Magi. Brook actually doesn't know much about him, save that he fights with three swords and isn't popular in the town. That, and the fact that he has it bad for Franky.

Which isn't acceptable, as the blue-haired male belongs solely to Brook. Or rather, he will once Brook figures out a way to get him to understand what a romantic-gesture is. For someone who is terribly smart when it comes to machinery, the large boy is very oblivious to everything else.

Like being hit on.

Or, in tonight's case, being openly leered at from the other side of the park.

Again, not something that is acceptable. So, letting out a heavy sigh, Brook straightens himself up and turns towards the swordsman. His dark blue skirt is clinging to tanned skin, light blue bodice cut low on his chest. It would be an attractive piece, Brook muses to himself, were it on anyone else.

"Don't you have somewhere to be tonight, Zolo?" he asks, one thin brow raising. Whether or not the other Puella Magi has any previous arrangments, he doesn't know. But it's still a good excuse, or so he thinks.

From his spot against the tree, Zolo merely shrugs his shoulders. He does, actually, have a job that he should be at - rather, should have been at several minutes ago. Shanks will have his hide if he is absent from the bar again. So after another moment of resting there, and of dark blue eyes flitting about the well-built man on the bench, he pushes himself away from the oak.

"Yeah. I better get going." Zolo says, then he closes his eyes and holds one hand out in front of him. Focuses and twists his wrist and, suddenly, the silken garment he wore in his fight dissapears. In it's place is a baggy tee-shirt and a pair of jeans, a light teal haramaki wound around his waist.

"What, running off already?" asks Franky, lifting his head up slightly. His view of the swordsman is blocked by the spindly form of Brook who, like himself, is still clad in his dress. "Thought we were just gonna chill here for a bit?"

Zolo shrugs, though the corners of his mouth are tugged down in dissapointment. "My ass'll be out on the street if I miss work again." Silence for a moment, as Zolo makes his way down the brick lined path. "But you can stop by the bar later, if you want. I'll buy you a drink."

Brook scowls, opens his mouth to speak - and is interrupted before he can even start by a loud, cheerful laugh from Franky. The larger man is sitting up now, legs crossed and blue slipper-shoes resting on the course grass.

"Why not? Don't think this is going to get you free cupcakes later though." Franky offers with a grin; even though he already knows, next time the green haired man comes into the Sweet N Silly, he will leave with thirteen pastries instead of twelve.

Because that's how this friendship of their works. Zolo offers beer, Franky offers dessert, and Brook always seems to be hovering just in the background.


End file.
